


Totentanz

by MadotsukiInTheNexus



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-19 02:33:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22503811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadotsukiInTheNexus/pseuds/MadotsukiInTheNexus
Summary: After receiving a distress call from an isolated island off the coast of Maine, the members of a paramilitary unit find themselves trapped in a deadly Nor'Easter. Caught in a struggle to survive until daybreak, they face not only the wind and waves, but a force born from the depths of Hell. A predator powerful and malevolent beyond comprehension, that will stop at nothing to obtain that which it most desires.
Kudos: 1





	1. Walpurgisnacht

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a writing prompt submitted to Reddit by /u/Kielenkantaja.
> 
> "[WP] "A storm is brewing.", fisherman says. "It's not brewing", a sage answers. "it's planning.""
> 
> None of the content in this story comes from the aforementioned Redditor. The use of their prompt here does not imply responsibility for anything that you may find disturbing, offensive, or just poorly written. That's all on me.

> there, in striking contrast to our present conditions, men will not be before or after death, but always in death; and thus never living, never dead, but endlessly dying. And never can a man be more disastrously in death than when death itself shall be deathless.

\- **St. Augustine of Hippo; City of God, Book XIII**

All of the weather models were in good agreement. There would be a forty minute window, starting around midnight East Coast Time, when Unit 8 could fly out to make the jump. Just enough for the requisitioned Navy CH-47 to make its way South to Smallgray Island, drop the four off, then hug the coastline back to land at Penobscot Bay before the next line of snow squalls hit. There could only be one shot at this. After 0046, the Chinook wouldn't fly again until dawn, and anyone still on the island would be left to their own devices.

There were no plans for, nor was there any possibility of, an immediate extraction in a case like this. Before heading to the site, the team was briefed that this would be a drop-and-holdout. As Special Executive Officer, Anna Bjerknes had made the decision to pick up the operation, but a mission like this required unanimous consent to go ahead.

Carmichael, the comms sergeant, had been the only one to express reservations. Had he kept up his refusal, the opportunity would soon have slipped by. After a second and then a third listen to the distress call, though, he changed his mind. It might have been something about the terrified pleading on the other end of the line that tugged at his heart strings, or it might have been that Carmichael's daughter was the same age as the girl stranded there with her family. Whatever the case, his decision set all the necessary gears in motion. By a few minutes after eleven, the group was packed into the cabin of the refueling twin-rotor, and its pilot was running down her preflight checklist.

When they started out, the winds were light and variable, but they had already begun to stream in again from the sea. All the way down the coast, Field Sergeant David Marshall watched low waves crashing against the slate-gray cliffs through the open rear door. Their crests foamed white in the moonlight, filtered through a high shield of icey clouds.

Carmichael sat across the center aisle where their Zodiac raft was secured, beside Weapons Sergeant Burke. In his lap, the comms operator held a waterproof duffel tote with radio handsets and a ten-pound transmitter/receiver. Burke also had a bag made of the same material propped up against the cabin wall, but its longer shape betrayed it's different contents. Two M4s, and Burke's own M-249 rifle, capable of firing more than seven hundred rounds a minute on automatic fire.

Barely strapped into her seat next to Marshall, Anna looked out of place, like a confused child holding the large black cat that was her Familiar. She seemed stuck on a field trip gone horribly wrong. The SEO wore a blaze orange life vest that the Navy pilot had coaxed her into putting on. It was the smallest one they had on board, but it was still made with a grown woman in mind, and on her it looked comical. There was no point to it, regardless, but there was only so much that the pilot needed to know. Saying that it would take a lot more than drowning to kill her would have invited too many more questions.

Right on schedule, the pilot began calling out the distance to the island. A thousand yards. Six hundred. Three hundred.

As the helicopter passed over the ancient wall of granite, Marshall heard Burke yelling.

"Jeeeee-sus Christ! Would you look at that?"

The helicopter banked around Smallgray, and all four pairs of eyes turned to catch a glimpse of what was spreading out behind them. Anna unfastened her harness and craned forward.

"Good Lord," Carmichael said, "They weren't kidding, huh?"

On the high end, the island's lighthouse stood clad in white stucco. Its lens still revolved, but the glass panels around it were shattered on the side closest to the sea, taken out by the waves that had come earlier in the night. Caved in, nearly two hundred feet above the cliff's base.

"Lucky those didn't hit on the other side," Marshall said.

On the low end was the house. The two story Cape Cod wasn't exposed in the direction of the open sea, but it was still clear that something was very wrong. The lights were on, shining where they could through the two dormers upstairs, and through the cracks around the plywood shutters on the front windows. Behind the wrap around porch, Marshall could see that the front doorway was open to the elements. Its door looked like it had been torn off its hinges. A trail of something dark led away from the door.

The only movement at the cottage was a tattered flag, suspended on a pole that stuck out from the roof overhanging the porch.

The pilot yelled to be heard over the rumble of the twin engines, "Looks like the boat house is on the other side! It's partly caved in, but the one side's open. Do y'all still want to make the jump?"

"I'm not going to change my mind now!" Anna called back, her accent dense.

The Chinook turned after crossing the low end, banked hard again, and then started to descend. As soon as its flight was level, Anna stood up again and crossed to the black Zodiac. The cat had vanished already, shifting away into the shade.

She hopped over the gunwale and sat in the seat behind the raft's single-person metal cab.

"You, uh, you shouldn't get in that yet," the pilot called back. She moved her microphone away from her face, and rotated her upper body to look into the bay, "The raft goes down first, in case it capsizes. The others will get it to you, and-"

"It won't flip," Anna said, "Trust me. I've done this before."

Marshall spoke, just loud enough to be heard, "She has. Lots of times."

The Chinook lowered near the low five foot swells. The pilot started, "I can't let anyone-"

Burke and Carmichael were already undoing the straps that held the rigid-hull raft to its track in the center of the floor. Marshall followed their lead and unfastened the two heavy fabric belts on his side.

Burke walked to the pilot's seat and clapped his hand on her shoulder. "We cleared for the jump?"

"I can't give clearance if the kid's in the boat!" She replied.

Anna yelled back, "She's not going to do the drop! Carmichael, just throw the bags in and shove this thing!"

There was a heavy, insulated clattered, followed by the sound of plastic sliding against metal as the raft slipped back. Once it hit the ramp, it went down on it's own inertia, splashing into the crest of a wave and surfing down its back.

"You can file a written complaint if it makes you feel better," Burke said, "Just don't expect anyone to read it."

The pilot looked toward the bay, empty except for the three men in their jumpsuits. "Oh my God," she said, "Is she okay?"

Marshall walked back to the open door. The raft's Night Sun was on, shining back from the prow. Behind it, he could just make out Anna, leaning up from the open cabin and flashing a thumb's up. "Yeah," he said, "She's fine."

"Now," Burke said, "Are *we* cleared for the jump?"

The pilot answered, "Definitely. Get the fuck down there."

\------------

Marshall was the first down the ramp. He leaped into the air and, for just over a second, he was in weightless free fall. Then he hit the water, and reflex drove him toward the raft.

As he scrambled over the slick gunwale, he saw Carmichael doing the same on the other side. Burke followed, and Carmichael helped to pull him up. The two sat on the back bench, next to the gun and the radio. Marshall took up his position ahead and just to the side of the cab.

Up ahead, the helicopter remained in place, treading the air. Its rotors' downwash tossed the surface of the bay. Then its cargo ramp folded up, and the Chinook lifted off. The four watched its lights fade higher. As it swept over the island, it trained its spotlight on the black raft. Apparently satisfied, the pilot rose further into the night, cut off the blue beam, and started inland.

"I think she thought you were going to swim to the boat," Carmichael said, laughing from his barrel chest.

Anna replied, "I could do it."

"We'd just have to pull you in," Carmichael said, "like a kid who leaned a little too far over the rail to watch the fishes. You know how they do."

Anna glared at him, "Do you want to swim the rest of the way?"

"I could do it," he said, "Look, I'm just saying, one little Norwegian girl against the mighty North Atlantic. We'd be hauling you on board."

"Marshall," Anna said, "Shut him up before he goes over the side."

Marshall propped his foot up on the bench and looked over his shoulder. "Carmichael," he said, "Shut the fuck up."

"Let's get some music going," Carmichael said, "I vote Winds of Plague."

"It's going to be Blue Oyster Cult." Anna said.

Carmichael said, "I don't know if you've noticed, but we live in a democracy. All in favor of 'Open the Gates of Hell', say, 'aye'."

Carmichael and Burke shouted in unison.

"All in favor of 'Astronomy'?" Anna said.

Marshall spoke up, along with Anna. Then came a loud meow.

"Maxwell can't fucking vote," Carmichael said, "He's a part of you, right?"

A clear voice rang out, not really coming from the cat that had appeared on the front bench, but inside of each of their heads, "I live in her and she in me."

"Still not sure what that means, but it counts as at least half a vote," Marshall said, "Crank it."

The speakers in the open cab started playing a low, hollow sound.

Carmichael shouted, "Alright, but on the way back, Winds of Plague."

The outboard motors cut on, dual Caterpillars roaring as they turned turbines in the wake. Anna spun the boat in a circle, her copper hair whipping in the icey spray.

Then, at full speed, the Zodiac cut through the waves along the island's rocky shoreline.


	2. Dies Irae

There was a saddleback between Smallgray's high and low ends. There, in that protected cove, was the boat house. It was a wooden outbuilding, floating on pontoons, with a narrow board linking it to the island. As the raft approached, Anna cut off the speakers and dialed down the outboards. The raft glided through the water.

On the front of the building, above the massive door that opened to the sea, a copy of Blackbeard's flag whipped in the light of the Night Sun. Two floodlights beneath it stood dark above the bay. The Zodiac slowed as it crept through, making no wake while Anna angled it to come to a stop against the right interior dock.

There was a wood-paneled, vintage Chris Craft tied off to the opposite berth, another copy of the dread pirate's banner hanging limp from an antenna on its front. Above that, someone had topped the antenna with a smiling yellow ball. Wooden debris covered the boat's polished front deck and the green pleather seats inside. It wasn't hard to figure out where that had come from, looking up at the ceiling.

- **Lord Byron, The Destruction of Senacharrib**

With the Zodiac's speakers cut off, the inside of the boat house was quiet as w mausoleum. The caged lights in the rafters were cut off, no electricity flowing through the metal-insulated cables that ran between them. The roof and wall closest to the left dock were a ruin, smashed in by something enormous. That dock and the splinters around the massive hole above were coated in slick tar that glistened in the dimming moonlight.

"That wasn't a fucking wave, was it?" Burke whispered.

Anna shook her head. "If it had been, this whole thing would be gone."

"Well," Marshall said, "Guess you know what fucked this island up?"

"A Typhon, I think," Anna said, her voice hushed, "Looks like a small one. Probably a juvenile, just a few centuries old."

"Christ," Carmichael, "You mean the thing that did this was a *baby*?"

"Yes," she answered. The Zodiac bumped up against the wooden dock, splashing noisily, "Typhon are...I think the phrase is 'Greater Demons'. The Lords of Hell. They're ancient storm gods. Even with an infant..."

She trailed off.

"Let's just get this done," Carmichael said. After the raft crashed into position, he climbed up over the gunwale and onto the pier. Burke scrambled up behind and passed two thick black cables. The soldiers worked in tandem to get the ropes tied off to the barnacle-encrusted pylons, passing them back through plastic oar handles on the right side of the inflatable.

Once the boat was tied down, Burke handed Carmichael and Marshall their carbines, pulling the guns from his sealed tote. The two shouldered the short rifles, and the weapons specialist set about passing out their M-1911 sidearms, pistols that flashed metallic gray in the moonlight. There was one for Anna, a nod to procedure more than anything. Without a proper holster, she checked the safety and slipped the gun into her belt. Burke hefted the SAW himself. By the time the four had gotten out of the boat house and crossed over the bobbing plank bridge that linked it to the island, the temperature had dropped noticeably. The cyclone's wind flowed in from the Northwest, and with it came flurries. White crystals that caught the light whenever the distant tower revolved.

There was a sort of gravel parking lot on the island side of the bridge, strewn with fragmented granite. A John Deere Gator sat to the side facing them, and when Marshall clicked the flashlight on his jump suit's breast, it caught the reflectors behind the ATV's headlights. There was something under the blue tarp secured over Gator's bed, black-painted drums of fuel for the boat.

Carmichael and Burke did the same with their lights, looking out across the landing. Anna balled her hand into a fist. When she opened it, an orb of blue light floated up, then circled around her. The SEO repeated the act of creation two more times, until a miniature solar system of blue and green orbited her.

Carmichael dropped the satchel on the ground next to the John Deere, and crouched beside it. He unzipped it, then flipped up the two foot aluminum transmitter. The comms sergeant drew out a handset from inside. With its speaker switched on, he reached back into the bag, where he dialed the frequency for the nearest base. A green ball swooped over to him and began to trace an elliptical path through the blowing snow.

"Bangore Station, this is SEU-8, over."

There was nothing but dead air on the other end. He tried again.

"Bangore Station, this is SEU-8. Do you read? Over."

Nothing responded immediately except for the weak electric buzz. Then, the radio hummed. A metal chirp came over the airwaves, rising in pitch until it became a wobbling shriek. Carmichael grimaced as he held the handset away from his face. Its speaker crackled, the scream too loud and too high. The soldier flipped it off again and threw it back in the bag.

"Jesus," he said.

"I would suggest you *not* try that again," Anna said, "It's probably just the ectoplasm in the boat house causing interference, but-"

An unearthly shriek cut her off, sounding from the direction of the lighthouse. Another answered it, this one from the same direction but closer.

Anna took a hushed tone. "It's a splitter," she said, "Two halves, at least."

"Duly noted," Carmichael said. He zipped the satchel and slung its leather handle back over his right shoulder.

And with that, the four set off into the night.

Carmichael took the lead, with Anna following. The others walked together in the rear, Burke still with his automatic rifle ready.

A trail led away from the lot, the Gator's tread marks hard frozen as permafrost in the island's light clay soil, thin pools of ice glistening in the ruts. Around two hundred yards inland, the team came to where the road forked. There, a wooden sign post holding two arrows stood out of a patch of long-leafed tulips, carved and painted in faded yellow. The left arrow read "Small Gray Light". To the right, "Taylor Family Summer House :)". Both were painted with flowers in hues of sun-bleached green, blue, and pink.

When the wind gusted, it rocked the signpost. With it came sheets of billowing white. Anna held up her hands, shielding herself from the cold.

The wind died down behind the first burst, but it soon returned, with greater intensity this tima. Another gust came from the direction of the Smallgray Light, howling in the dark. Burke turned, his gun raised, but this time it was only the storm. The lighthouse's beam traced eddies and whorls of snow high above.

"Forecast's showing seventy knots sustained in the belt behind the cold front," Carmichael said, "It's a hell of a storm. Said there might be some deeper convection embedded in the line, too. We probably want to get inside."

Anna nodded, "I don't think we want to be out here any longer than we have to, regardless. Where do you think the distress call came from?"

"My money's on the house," Carmichael said, "They had all the windows boarded up. Probably trying to ride out the storm before things went south in a hurry."

Burke spoke up, "You saw that door though, right? Don't try to tell me they just threw it open. Something *got in there*. Maybe they ran for the lighthouse."

Carmichael shook his head, "It sounds like those things are on the other side now, and I doubt the light's defensible. It's probably only got the one door, so there's no way out if the front entrance doesn't hold. I'd have gone up to the attic, or maybe hit the basement if there weren't any other options. There's no way they ran across half a mile of open ground. Especially not if the windstorm was still going."

"We're talking about a doctor, a lawyer, and a fourteen year old girl," Burke said, "I doubt they were thinking about an exit plan in case the fucking Hounds of Tindalos broke down the door again."

Carmichael replied, "Second point still stands. Doctor, lawyer, teenage girl. They didn't run through hurricane force wind and pouring rain, with a demon chasing them. And if they did? If one of them made it to the light while that thing did god knows what to the other two? Don't you think they'd have been up at the light when they heard the helicopter?"

"Not if it was the kid."

"She's a freshman in high school. She can climb a few flights of stairs."

"Not if she was hurt."

"If she's hurt, she's gone," Carmichael said, "They're either in that house, or they're somewhere god himself couldn't help them. It's either, or, Burke. These things don't let you limp off to die."

Anna interjected, "I'm with Carmichael on this. We need to do *something*, and the house seems like as good idea as any."

"Being away from that sound's a bonus," Marshall said.

As if on cue, a cry rose above the wind. It sounded human this time, like a woman screaming in pain. Then, it deepened into a man's baritone howl. Marshall tried to tell himself it could be anyone, but when he turned to Carmichael, he saw that the comms sergeant was staring into the distance, through the billowing white. With the black skullcap of his jumpsuit down and bunched up at his neck, his dark face looked drained of blood.

The thing in the distance cut off, then began to shriek in an even higher octave. Marshall noticed that Carmichael's hand was on his M-1911.

"Carmichael," he said. The man didn't respond. "Carmichael!"

The comms sergeant blinked, and his hand left the pistol. "It's fucking with you," Marshall said, "That means it knows we're here. We need to get to that house."

Carmichael nodded, and turned around, again leading the way. All three soldiers had their weapons drawn now, and Anna glanced back warily every few steps, looking into that endless cold dark.


	3. The Circle

While the house's front door had been torn from its frame, the rear entrance facing the lighthouse was still closed. When Carmichael tried the knob, he found that it wasn't locked. It swung open almost silently into what looked to be a study. Flames flickered in a fireplace on one end of the room, the fire burning low. Another light shone in from a short hallway leading into the living room.

Outside, the full force of the storm was blowing down. When the Navy forecasters had predicted seventy knot winds, Marshall realized, they had been overoptimistic. He thought back to the CH-47 and hoped that its pilot had been able to make it to land off the bay.

Snow flew into the room, dropping flecks of white on a thick saffron rug. Anna stumbled inside, hair billowing into a wreath around her face. Marshall followed her, and then Burke. The weapons sergeant swept his gun through the wind-blown shadows, toward the light. There was a flurry of movement, but nothing obvious besides the storm. Burke closed the door behind him and turned the lever above the knob to secure the deadbolt.

Marshall didn't say what crossed his mind, but he was sure everyone thought the same. No one had even bothered to lock the damn door. Whatever had happened after that call, it had happened *fast*.

The study was broad, taking up nearly half of the ground floor. Bookshelves lined the far wall, everywhere except the entrance to the hallway. On top of the shelves were nautical artifacts. A detailed model of a three-level ship of the line on one, and on another, the steering wheel from a sailing boat. The pair of shelves flanking the hall held a 19th century diving helmet, and a large mahi-mahi. The fish was mounted to a polished ebony board with a placard reading, "Low End, Smallgray, 1946".

The interior of the house was like an icebox, but away from the wind it still seemed warm.

From the broken front door came the sound of the wind. Sometimes low and mournful, sometimes crying out a banshee wail. Burke crossed over to the hall and looked through, to the stairs on the left, a narrow, open half-bathroom on the right, and the living room straight ahead. "That thing's definitely been here already," he said, "Good lord, what's that smell?"

Anna followed him, peering down the hallway. "Sulfur," she said, "Blood. Rot. Use your imagination on the rest. You see that trail?"

Marshall and Carmichael walked to the hallway, their rifles raised. Down the short passage, they could see most of the main room. A recliner and couch sat on the tan carpet, the chair knocked at an odd angle and the couch flipped onto its back. On the far wall, a large TV hung by a cord from where it had been mounted on the wall. The ceiling lights were undamaged, but the fan they were set in dangled from its wires.

What caught Marshall's eye more than the destruction was the dark trail of ichor leading in from the door, spread like mud tracked in by a dog.

"Was this the same thing that tore up the boathouse?" Marshall asked.

"Yeah," Anna said, "Probably a large split from the main thing."

To the left of the living room was a wide redwood archway that led to the dining room. There, a long table lay beneath the ceiling chandelier. Its top was covered with a white lace cloth, and a bowl of fake fruit stood out on the center. Unlit burgundy candles flanked velvet placemats at six different seats. The whole scene was undisturbed, except for a single chair close to the living room, flipped over, one of its leg broken off. An oil painting of a sailboat on the crest of a wave watched in silence from the far wall, perched between two boarded-up windows.

Anna walked through the dining room to the kitchen door on the right, and opened it. Marshall followed close behind.

There were faux-granite countertops around the kitchen perimeter, along with a matching island in the center of the room. Teflon coated pots and pans hang above the center aisle, two of them knocked to the floor, and a row of three black-topped barstools sat to the left. In the rear corner of the room stood a polished black side-by-side with an ice maker and digital screen. A stove/microwave combo lined up against the wall a little closer.

One of the counter drawers stood open. Anna went across the room to inspect it, and drew out a butcher's knife half as long as her lower arm. The metal shone in the light.

"Someone decided to stab one of the Lords of Hell to death?" Burke asked.

Anna shrugged, "It makes about as much sense as shooting at it."

Anna slid the blade back into the knife drawer, and closed it. "Alright," she said, "I guess we know what happened here. "

"Yeah," Marshall said, "Damage is only in one room, so when that thing came in, it obviously didn't follow whoever came in here. They were probably sitting at the table listening to the storm, ran while that thing wasn't watching, came in here...then, they probably got the knife and waited to see if it came in."

"They went out once the coast was clear?" Burke asked.

Anna answered, "Or once they thought it was."

A thud came from the ceiling, and Marshall looked up into a fall of dust from the plaster. As he wiped his eyes, a heavy scraping sound started, dragging across the floor upstairs.

"One way or another," Anna said, "We probably need to check out what that is."

\----------

The stairs leading up from the hallway were all carved hardwood, hand-painted creamy white. Below the top of each step, there were some of those same flowers that had been on the sign, especially toward the bottom where the painting had started. Pictures lined the walls on either side. Art prints of cottages and lighthouses, of tide fences in the dunes, and of seagulls in a pastel sky. Of a life now gone. Toward the top of the stairs, shadows grew. Except for an occasional brightening when the lighthouse beam passed over, the upstairs hallway was cloaked in shadow.

Burke took point this time, ahead of Anna. His rifle, useless as it might have been, gave him some sense of security.

Standing at the top landing, in front of a window on the side of the house, he yelled out, "Is anyone there?"

No one answered his call. Anna followed, then Marshall, and finally Carmichael. A hallway cut down the middle of the second floor, leading between two windows that faced away from the Smallgray Light.

One door stood open on the left. Marshall looked in, noting a large double-bed with a white canvas trunk at its foot. The bedstead was flanked by two dormers. In the master bedroom the light had been left on, and on the left, the door to the bath stood open. From the hall, Marshall swept his M4 through to the shower in the far corner. Its curtain was pulled away to reveal a bathtub and wall faucet.

"Looks like there's nothing over here," he said.

Anna walked ahead and knocked on the first door to the left. "Hello," she said, "We're here to help."

Burke turned to her and said, "What the hell?"

"Someone's in there," she replied, "She's afraid."

The black cat slunk out of the shadows, and began to rub against the door. As he did so, the Familiar purred.

"She?" Burke said.

Anna pushed the door, but it came up against something. "Listen," she said to the person inside, "We know you're scared, but you have to trust us. We're here to help."

Carmichael moved up beside Anna now. "Is it the girl?"

Anna answered, "I'm pretty sure."

Carmichael gestured for Anna to move aside, and shouldered his rifle across from his tote. The comms sergeant opened the door as far as he could until it caught on something heavy. There was a light on in the room, but he couldn't see far enough to make out anything other than a single bed and a second door to the left.

"Hey," he said, "I'm sorry, I know she sounds kind of awkward. A little ironic, but Anna's not good with anyone younger than herself. You alright in there?"

No one replied.

"We're going to have to open the door if you don't open it for us," Carmichael said, "If you don't feel like moving what you've got in front of it, just stand somewhere safe. Maybe climb up in the dormer, okay?"

Again, there was no response. "Can you get the door open without busting it?" Carmichael asked Anna, "We don't need to make this any worse."

"Yeah," the SEO answered. She took a step back and raised her hand. In front of her, the air began to quiver. Carmichael took a step to the left. Inside of the room, Marshall heard something heavy slide as Anna shifted her wrist.

There wasn't enough time to react before the other door flew open into the hall. A green and black blur shot out, moving rapidly toward Carmichael.

The man turned to face her as the girl plunged a knife deep into his jumpsuit.

The blade thudded against his ceramic vest, then came out and stabbed again. Two more times, before the girl's arm stopped in mid-air. There was a scream, a shrill sound that cut off suddenly.

Burke had his gun trained on the girl who stood shaking in the hallway. Her long, curled hair framed a face with aviator rim glasses and a face frozen in a silent cry.

"Jesus!" Carmichael yelled, grabbing his stomach, "Burke, put that down!"

"Fuck!" Burke yelled. He lowered the barrel, "Did she get you?"

"Not much," Carmichael said, "Kind of hard to tell, but I think it's just a-"

He pulled his hand away from the cut, and blood pulsed out.

"Okay," he said, "Not just a scratch. Anna?"

The SEO snapped her fingers, and the flow of blood stopped.

"She definitely got you," Anna said, "It's pretty deep. That'll need some work once we get back, but you should be fine for now."

Anna turned to the girl, who stood rooted to the spot. She pried the girl's fingers from the handle of her long steak knife, its last few inches dripping with blood, and took it in her hand. "Alright," she said. The girl's eyes dashed back and forth behind shining lenses.

"You can see, this guy's human," Anna said, "If you stabbed one of them, it wouldn't bleed, okay? Do you understand? Blink twice for yes."

The girl blinked rapidly.

"I'm going to release you," Anna said, "And when I do, you need to be quiet, and you need to stay right there. Understood?"

Again, the girl blinked twice. Anna moved her hand down, and the girl's arm slowly dropped. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the ground, then scrambled up against the wall. She didn't speak, but tears flowed from her eyes.

Anna squatted down in front of her, and said, "It's alright. I know you didn't mean to. That was good."

"Like hell it was," Burke said, "She could've killed-"

"Shut it," Marshall barked.

"I-I didn't," the girl said, her voice wavering, "It-I thought it came back. Someone was moving the chair, and-"

"That was me," Anna said, "I can do that, but you had no way to know."

"What's your name?" Carmichael said. He bent down on one knee.

The girl answered, "Lisa. Um, Lisa Taylor. I-I..."

Her voice faded away, and Lisa started sobbing.

"Let's get down to the dining room," Carmichael said, "You can tell us what happened there."

Lisa shook her head violently. "I can't go down there," she said.

Burke looked up and down the hall. The light was still tracing its arc around the island. "We need to get somewhere nothing can see in," he said.

"Good luck with that," Anna said, "These things don't see light, they track emotions. A hell of a lot better than I can, apparently."

"Yeah," Burke said, "You didn't even know what fucking room she was in. What if she'd stabbed him a little higher?"

Carmichael said, "Burke, leave it."

"Well," he said, "We need to get somewhere we can leave if it comes back. Not up here."

Carmichael ignored him, "Lisa, can we go to the other bedroom?"

The girl nodded. She started to lift herself, then slipped. Carmichael offered her his hand, and with a grunt, he pulled her up.


	4. Tanz mit Mir

Lisa sat on the bed, and Anna put her own useless life vest beside her.

It was Carmichael's idea to have her wrap in the comforter before he sat down his gear and laid on the top sheet. Once he was there, Marshall took his combat knife and cut through the man's waterproof jump suit.

Two of the girl's strikes had managed to hit the same part of his ceramic stab vest. As pathetic as the knife might have been for what she intended, Marshall thought, she'd had the right idea getting one that was long and sharp. No armor was really knife-proof, and with two hits making contact in the same spot, the knife had gone deep. He couldn't see the wound, but under any other circumstances, the comms sergeant would have been in some shit.

The lights had gone out unnoticed while they were taking stock of the situation in the hall. If the powerhouse for the entire island was in the tower on the high end, the storm was bound to have knocked out any above-ground lines.

"I think you're good," Marshall said to Carmichael. The sergeant sat up and scooted back against the bed's light blue headboard.

"It took my dad," Lisa said, talking to no one in particular. "I'm not sure if it...you know, if it killed him. He got a coffee table in front of the door, but it just-it just pulled the door *out* and the table with it."

"That happens," Carmichael said.

"It was like a-like an arm," she said, "but made of...ropes, snakes, I don't know. It grabbed him. Then it came back."

Lisa was quiet for a moment, then said, "I saw what it did to my mom. Before I could get into the kitchen. It...it-"

Sobs wracked her body. Carmichael tried to lean over to the girl, but came up short. She stood up, and started pacing.

"You don't have to tell us," Anna said, "I know."

"It was like hot oil," Lisa continued, gesturing like a magician, "The whole outside of it was boiling, and I think it was screaming, it wasn't just her."

"Lisa," Carmichael said.

The girl crossed over to the end table and tried to pick up the knife, where Anna had sat it next to the art-deco alarm clock. Carmichael clapped his hand down on its handle.

"I hid in the kitchen," Lisa said, "There wasn't anything I could do. That thing was huge. It was in there for half an hour with my mom, and I kept trying to think of something, anything I could do, but..."

"There wasn't anything you could do," Anna said, "You hid. That was a smart move. We couldn't stop that thing with a tank."

"You couldn't?" Lisa said. She stared at Anna.

Burke looked to the SEO, too, "Wait, you couldn't?"

Anna shook her head. "No, not a Typhon. You don't fight something like that. You get out of its way."

Burke said, "But you got *in* its way. Did you fucking know that there was one of those things here?"

"Burke..." Carmichael started.

"No," Anna said, "Not before we got here. With the storm, I knew there was a risk, but I assumed it was probably a Loreley, or a Juracan. Not a Typhon."

"Would that be better?" Burke asked.

Anna nodded, "Well, you've seen those before, remember? In Puerto Rico? You kept calling it a hurricane?"

"Oh shit," Burke said, "That thing was the *best case scenario*? Christ, Anna, it destroyed a whole fucking town!"

Anna said, "I'm well aware."

"Of just how fucked we are?!" Burke yelled.

Carmichael barked, "Can you *please* shut the fuck up?"

Burke walked over to one of the dormers and looked toward the light. It rotated in its course, illuminating the night but not improving visibility.

Lisa sat back down, near the pillows at the head. "Are we..." she started, "Are we fucked?"

Anna shook her head. "We just have to hold out until a few hours after sunrise. That's only going to be about..."

Anna pulled the sleeve of her red silk shirt down past a small gold Rolex. "Oh," she said, "Six hours. Not exactly what I was expecting. I thought we'd been here longer than that."

"It's only three in the morning?" Carmichael said.

Anna nodded. "Apparently," she said, "Time usually flies when you're having fun. Still, it's known we were here for quite awhile, and it doesn't seem overly interested. If it wanted us, it would have attacked while we were still outside."

"I can think of one good reason why it wouldn't have," Burke said, "If it's not us the fucking thing's interested in."

Anna's Familiar crept out from under the mattress and jumped on top of the bed. It rubbed against Lisa, and began again to purr again.

"You brought a cat?" Lisa said.

The same voice that had spoken on the raft spoke inside the girl's head. "I'm not exactly a cat."

Lisa jumped up, and turned to face the not-exactly-a-cat as it sat up on its haunches.

"Lisa," Anna said, "This is Maxwell. Maxwell, Lisa."

"I know," the Familiar said, "Arnold has a point, unfortunately. It's been a very long time since I've hunted, but if I weren't sealed to another, the one who calls itself Lisa would be quite appealing."

"Maxwell is, uh, a Lesser Demon. An Aurgelmir," Anna said, "He's harmless, though. He's sealed to me as a Familiar."

"But," the cat said, "What I said is true. Especially if it took her parents, it may be-"

Anna shook her head, "That's enough of that. Maxwell, back off."

The cat lept off of the bed, but there was no sound of it hitting the hardwood floor. It vanished silently into the dark.

"What's a Familiar?" Lisa asked, "And what did it mean?"

Anna replied, "It's...kind of like a, uhm, symbiotic? English isn't my first language. Someone else could explain this better, but maybe a parasite would be a good comparison. It doesn't cause harm, though, at least not intentionally. It's-"

"A symbiote," Lisa said, "You mean it's a symbiote. To you."

Anna nodded, "Yes, that's the word. Thank you. He isn't going to harm you. He just means that, well, he *would*, if he weren't my Familiar. Which he is. So he won't."

Lisa said, "I hope you don't mind, but that's not very comforting."

"Yeah," Burke said, "I agree. That's some really creepy shit. Can't you *please* put that damn thing on a leash? And what about the one outside? I don't think it's interested in being any kind of goddamn 'symbiote'. If it feels the same wa-"

The silent passage of the lighthouse's beam cut him off. Something shifted in the shadows that it painted on the far wall, roping movement in the dim light.

"Okay," Anna said, "I'm sure everyone just saw that. Right now, it's extremely, extremely important that we all just remain calm."

Carmichael slid his legs over the edge of the bed, and stood up. Lisa backed slowly away from the windows, and Burke did the same, his gun raised toward the glass. A flash of blue came from the tumult outside, silent lightning from a storm embedded in the blizzard. Nothing showed itself in the glare.

Marshall was the first to the door. He stepped outside into the hallway, and the others followed. Burke picked up the comms bag on his way, slinging it over his back. Only Anna stayed in the bedroom, her hand against the glass, feeling it reverberate in the wind.

There was nothing that she could sense. For an moment, she hoped that the slithering motion might just have been a trick of the light. Then, the beam swung around again.

It only appeared in the window for a split second, a giant, oval black pool like an eye. Its body blocked the wind but not the light, and flakes of snow danced in the thing's wake. Burke flipped the M-249, and fired.

Anna shielded her face as the glass splintered. She crouched down and ran from the room, away from the giant. Then, the house shook. The terrible thing roared, its voice rising up in pitch like a slide whistle. Anna had just cleared the doorway when the room exploded, wooden planks flying into splinters with the force of the demon's attack.

Anna grabbed Lisa by the arm and pulled her down the hall to the stairs. The others ran behind, Carmichael in the rear, his gun forgotten. Above them, the roof fled away into the howling dark. Marshall heard Burke firing again at whatever he saw there in the night. There was a second, when the hallway was first bathed in light, that Marshall thought it might have been the familiar arc, but it was too soon and too bright.

Most of the group was on the stairs when the Typhon roared again. Carmichael was still bringing up the rear, chasing behind Burke as the weapons sergeant fired another volley of 5.56 NATOs. Marshall looked back for long enough to see something grab Carmichael, a pitch black snake that absorbed the light rather than reflecting it. The thing wrapped itself around his body, crushing the air from his lungs. The man lifted off the top step, then went flying up and away into the rushing sea of white.

The lower part of the house shook under a new barrage, and the thing howled. Then, the cry died down. The light subsided, and the downstairs hallway fell into shadow.

There was another cry, a deep, rumbling bass that came from the direction of the lighthouse.

"It got Carmichael!" Burke yelled, "It fucking threw him! Like a goddamn rag doll, did you see that?!"

"Yeah," Marshall said, "Yeah, I did."

"He's gone, man!" Burke yelled, "He went, what, a hundred feet up? Fuck!"

"Alright," Marshall said, "What do you want me to say?"

Lisa's voice trembled, "Is it gone?"

Anna shook her head, "For now, but it's going to come back."

"Where do we go?" Lisa asked.

"I'm thinking the lighthouse," Anna said.

"And then what?" Burke asked.

Anna replied, "I don't know, but we can't stay here. We need a, uh, we need a thing."

"A distraction?" Lisa asked.

"That's it."

Marshall held up his hand. His voice was hushed, "Do you hear that?"

The hallway fell quiet. There was a sound, one that pattered above the howl of the storm. Like a galloping horse, coming from the direction of the tower.

"Christ!" Burke yelled, pointing his SAW to the door, "It's coming back!"

"Wait!" Anna yelled, "Hold your fire!"

The sound drew closer. "It's going to bowl over the whole house!" Marshall said.

Anna held her arms out, "No, it's not. Listen."

The thundering footfalls drew closer. "I am listening," Marshall said, "We need to mo-"

There was a splintering crash as the backdoor caved in. Parts of the frame went with it. The turquoise-stained French windows on either side fractured into a mist of glass. In the field of the lighthouse beam, the creature appeared. Slick, black, the size of a horse. It crouched down in the study, and four segments split open in the front to reveal a gaping maw. The thing shrieked with Carmichael's voice, screaming in terror.

"Now," Anna shouted, "Run!"

The four raced toward the open front door, Anna again tugging at the girl. She stumbled and nearly fell when the thing thing reached the hall. It slowed at the entrance to the hallway, too large to make it through. Its six legs were awkward in the confined. Burke fired another burst as the group ran through the living room, the demon in pursuit.

They were out the door and on the front porch by the time it exited the hallway. The thing crouched down at the far end of living room, ready to pounce.

Anna stepped down the first stair, looking for something in the night. When she found it, she gestured toward the doorframe.

The old door slammed back into place. From behind it, the thing screamed again in a different voice. Marshall looked to Lisa, at first thinking it might have been her, but she stood silent, the snow past her ankles.

There was another flash of lightning, then a powerful thud. The door splintered, but this time, it held.

"Get back!" Anna yelled.

The four walked out into the snow behind Anna. That radiant white glare came again, now through the hemispherical window in the door and through the cracks around the plywood. It revealed a hole above, where the stairs had once reached the second floor hallway, and caught the tumbling chaos of snow. The entire house was gone above the porch's roof, a flat plane swept clean.

There was another unearthly shriek, and the thing tumbled against the door again. Marshall pointed his M4 at the broken hardwood.

Anna closed her eyes and mumbled something under her breath. The thing cried out again from behind the splintered door, this time in words that reached above the blizzard's howl.

*Neineineinei! Nei! Vær så snill, Gud, nei!*

Anna clapped her hands, and there was a rushing woosh. For a split-second, silence reigned, and then what was left of the house burst into flames. A shock came from the burning shell, hot as an oven in the cold.

Above, a blue inferno rose up in a whirl, unresponsive to the wind. Parts of the firestorm flickered black, devoid of light. The darkness swirled around, flying up around the blue. Inside, the thing roared, wordless in its agony. Its voice went from Anna's, to Lisa's, to Carmichael's. There were two more human screams, a man and a woman, that carried up in the embers. Lisa flinched at the sound and backed toward the limits of the light. The cry became an animal moan, a plaintive whine, then faded entirely below the crackle of the fire.

The four stood in the deepening snow as the flames began to die down. There was a smell like burning tires coming from it.

"Hellfire," Anna said, "That'll show the bastard."

"Is it dead?" Lisa asked.

Anna shook her head, "No. It's going to take awhile to regroup, though. Since it knows there's a threat, it's not going to come at us like that again."

Marshall asked, "Does it know you're here?"

"That part did," Anna said, "The rest *should* just know that there's something dangerous. It'll be cautious."

"And if it's not?" Burke said.

Anna shrugged, "Try shooting it again? That worked well."

Burke ejected the magazine and checked its contents, "I don't think I can do another round on auto. Maybe burst fire."

"God," Anna said, "How thick is your skull?"


	5. Astronomy

Just past the sign post, two shapes began slinking through the gloom, circling the survivors like vultures around carrion. Lisa pointed them out to Marshall when his light caught one crossing the road up ahead. Six legs on a stocky body, with a head that opened and closed along four seams. It froze momentarily before in the beam, giving a low hiss before it crept back into the night. It was maybe a fourth the size of the one that had crashed into the house. A different body for a different purpose.

The predators began to close in as the four shadows started up the high end, moving in tighter circles around them. One sang a nonsense song in a voice like splintering ice. The other took up the same tune, but with a guttural honk.

Marshall trained his M4 where he thought he could see one, slinking through the gloom.

"Calm," Anna said, "Stay calm."

Burke gave a deep chuckle. "Easy for you to say."

The soldiers were in the glow of the tower's exterior light when the first of the things charged, a loping gallop that picked up speed as it came closer. Marshall fired a burst, then turned back and broke into a run. Burke kept shooting as he retreated, putting four rounds into the shape caught in his flashlight's glow, but the creature didn't slow. Behind it, the second bounded into the light.

Lisa reached the door first and threw it open, but as she raced through she nearly pulled it to. Anna caught it and flung the door wide letting Burke and then Marshall crash in before she joined them inside.

Marshall slammed the door behind him and stood with his back pressed against it when the thing made contact. The metal shuddered, and the strike nearly knocked him off his feet. Behind him, Burke threw down a thick iron bar that hung from a hinge on the wall.

Five minutes passed after the banging stopped, but Marshall still wasn't comfortable stepping away. He held his back against the door, snow dripping from his wet suit.

After his eyes adjusted to the light, Marshall took stock of the situation.

This time, they were definitely fucked.

A hundred feet above, the main signal rotated, spinning back and forth like a ballerina on amphetamines. In that warm glow, Burke crouched against the wet brick wall. He held his SAW in one hand and Carmichael's radio handset in the other, the comms satchel open at his feet.

The weapons sergeant flipped the transmitter up. Its frequency already set to Bangore station, he shouted into the handset. Only static answered him.

Opposite Burke, Anna sat now with her arm around Lisa's shoulders, whispering something that calmed the girl's muffled sobs. Both shook in the cold.

Anna looked out of place again sitting next to the girl, more like a terrified child than a commanding officer. She had been younger than Lisa when the clock had stopped for her, its hands fallen from its face. This was the first time in his five years of service that Marshall had seen her struggle to maintain her composure, but it was obvious even through the facade. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her that it would be okay.

To lie.

This had to be a nightmare, some kind of frenzied dream that he would wake from soon to find everything right with the world. The lamps seemed to run up the spiral staircase, hounds chasing a twirling rabbit. Outside, the wind howled. Waves crashed against the exterior walls, reaching over the cliffs again in the maestrom. Even over that cacophonous roar, though, he heard the screams. Come again from somewhere beyond Smallgray, far beneath Maine, below the world of the living.

That, and the shuffling. The sniffing. The scratching.

When it started to draw closer, Anna put her hands over Lisa's ears and coached her to do the same. The girl didn't need to hear them.

"Goddamn it!" Burke yelled, nearly throwing the radio handset back into the waterproof bag. He stood up and started pacing again, clutching the gun like a drowning man who caught hold of a log.

Marshall whispered, "Burke..."

Burke looked toward him, raising the gun almost like he planned to target the operations sergeant, but not quite moving its aim above the floor. He stood silent, dripping meltwater from his clothes and hair. Satisfied, he went back to his rounds.

Lisa uncapped her ears as the sound went away, leaning on Anna. "We're going to have to get back to the boathouse," Anna said, her voice leaning into a lisp.

Marshall moved away from the door, glancing back at it cautiously as he stepped toward the small flood drain in the middle of the floor. "It's not going to be safe in the Zodiac," he said, "Assuming it's still there."

"I can keep it upright," Anna said, "I think, anyway. We can't make it to shore, but it's better than staying here."

Burke stopped pacing when he reached the wall, turned his back to the wet mortar, and slid down to the concrete floor. The comms operator started laughing. First a light chuckle, then a quiet roar that shook his entire body. He looked at the SEO and said, "What? Anna, how in the *fuck* are we even going to make it there? Are you going to scare that thing off, far enough for more than just you to get out? And what about the kid? Is she gonna hang on in forty foot waves?"

Anna gestured toward the dark, and a sleek black cat materialized from the shadows. "Maxwell," Anna said, "Could you..."

Burke slammed his head against the wall. "No," he said, "Hell no. We are *not* making another abomination like you."

Anna glared at him, and the cat spoke. Resonating through their minds, it had the clearest voice of anyone in the room. "I can't do that, Anna. It's impossible for me to serve two people, and breaking my bond with you would mean your death. And hers."

Anna leaned back, "Well, it was a thought. I've never had a reason to ask before."

"We are *all* going to fucking die here," Burke said. The scratching started again near the door this time. Marshall walked back to it instinctively, but the creature didn't try again. It was buying its time.

"Shut the hell up," Anna said, "We have another person here, in case you haven't noticed. And where are you getting off calling me an abomination? I've saved your life, how many times?"

Burke lifted the gun, this time training it on the SEO. "What happens if I pull this trigger?" He said, voice lifting high at the end, like he'd made some kind of joke and expected her to laugh.

Marshall turned his M4 on Burke, but Anna waved it back "Well, there won't be enough left of you for them to court martial," she said, "so you won't have to worry about a firing squad."

Burke lowered the barrel. "Case in point. You know," he said, "It has to get boring, living forever but never being old enough to buy a goddamn beer. Drive a car...get married and have kids. I think you should really just go back to Hell. Get a nice family reunion going. Free barbecue for everyone."

Anna gestured toward the door, "You, first. If you don't want to take a stroll to the marina, then I suggest you shut up."

The room fell again into silence.


	6. Die Wilde Jagd

For more than an hour, the generator rumbled on beneath their feet. Then, it began to choke and sputter. The four stared at the drain, toward the basement where it coughed away its last few breaths.

Finally it cut out. All eyes turned to the lights as they first flickered, then went dark.

There were a few minutes when the interior of the lighthouse was as dark as a mine shaft. Then, the lights seemed to come back on. They shone brighter than they had before, but now in shades of emerald green intermingled with electric violet.

"How long can you keep them on?" Burke asked, his voice teetering.

Anna replied, "Even with the main signal, this isn't very...energy intensive? I think that's right. I'm more concerned about, well, why they went off in the first place."

"Same," Marshall said, stepping away from the door.

The field sergeant looked back to the drain. Maybe the flood might had gotten into the generator through there? No, there wasn't that much run-off. The drain had to be away from the machinery.

Still, when Marshall listened, he noticed a new sound coming from the basement. Somewhere down there, water gurgled.

Lisa's voice seemed barely above a whisper, "Guys, there's a-there's a door outside, going down the generator room."

Anna asked, "Lisa, do your parents *lock* the door to the basement?"

Lisa stood up, and brushed what was left of the melting snow from her jacket, "They don't...we don't own the lighthouse, so it's always locked. But as far as I know, it's just a padlock and chain, and it's rusty from the ocean. No one would normally try to get in there, so-"

Something roared below. It went on forever, turning to a vicious, rumbling shriek, like metal scraping against stone. There was more than one voice in it, cries both animal and human. Lisa screamed and held her hands to her ears, "Oh god, this can't be happening. Nononononono..."

The liquid sounds grew louder under that animal scream and Lisa's repetitive mantra. What had been a gurgle turned to a thick bubbling, like a stream of molasses. Marshall felt his stomach sink, and started toward the stairs.

"We need to get higher," he barked, grabbing Burke's shoulder.

Burke sprang to his feet. The two waited as Anna and Lisa ran toward the rusted metal steps, then Marshall followed. Burke was in the rear, gun pointed now toward the drain. The rushing grew more intense, even as the other sounds subsided, then changed its tone entirely to a wet splashing. "Move!" Burke yelled, walking backward, using the railing pipe as a guide, "Move! Move! Move!"

A black flood started flowing up into the ground floor. It looked like a pool of oil, spreading out in the ghost fires. At around twenty feet above the bottom, Marshall looked back to see the tide rising visibly up the walls, seeping slowly into the vast space. Bones came to its surface, a radius, a femur, parts too large to have actually come through the drain. They looked singed, gouged in places so deeply that they nearly split. On them and in places where the oil splashed up the wall and retreated, there was a deep red stain of blood, unmistakable even in the surreal light.

"Where's the cat?!" Lisa yelled from further up the staircase.

Anna pulled a necklace from her shirt. A black sphere hung from the chain. "He's safe in here-"

A terrible cry cut her off, slicing through the air above the pool. Screams of agony from hundreds of voices reverberated in the confined space, swelling and echoing through bone and sinew. Lisa stopped moving and held her ears, scrunching her eyes shut. Anna tapped on her shoulder, pausing with one foot on a higher step, like a mountain climber helping another over an impossible ledge.

"Lisa," she said, "Come on! We need to go."

"Where?!" Lisa yelled back.

Bubbles rose to the surface of the deepening pool. As they ruptured, the screams became a wailing symphony. Then, the tumult calmed. Two voices alone formed a chorus.

*No! Stop, please, stop, stop, stop...*

*Lisa, please don't leave me here!*

"It's not them," Lisa said, trying to block out the cries, "Tell me it's not them!"

Anna lifted herself to the step above. She took the girl's hands from her ears, and waited for her to look up. Lisa's eyes shone behind her glasses.

"How does it sound like them?"

"Lisa," Anna said, her voice firm and calm, "I'm sorry, but I need you to listen for a second. To me, not to anything else, alright?"

"Why?!" Lisa said, "What does it matter?!"

Anna replied with a question, "Do you know what that thing down there is?"

A shot rang out in the lighthouse, and Lisa cried out, again trying to cover her ears. Anna pulled her hands down gently again.

Marshall yelled, "Hold your goddamn fire!"

In the center of the chamber, a fountain appeared at the surface of the pool. Something like a spring. The water had stopped its rise, rolling in place.

Anna continued, "It's a predator, a near perfect hunter that will do *whatever* it needs to in order to catch its prey once it's picked up their trail. You know that. You've seen it hunting all night. But it's not like a...like a lion, or a wolf. It doesn't eat meat, or if it does, it doesn't do that because it's hungry. It does it to hurt people, because it eats suffering. Misery, pain, fear. And Maxwell was right. I can feel it, too. Who do you think it's chasing right now? Who do you think it's following up this lighthouse? It probably can't even tell that I'm here."

Burke yelled up, "I don't think that this is a very good time for a fucking lecture on demonology!"

Marshall called back, "It's not moving, dumbass!"

"Yeah," Burke replied, "It's not, and I don't fucking like that!"

Anna continued, her tone unchanged, "You remember what it did to Carmichael, right? It killed him, but it was fast. It shoved him, *it threw him*, out of the way. Now, if it reaches either of those two, it's going to do the same, because it's not after them. It's after *you*, okay? It's not moving right now, because it wants you to know what I'm telling you. It wants you to be more afraid when it catches you. But that is *not* going to happen, if you *keep moving*."

"It will if we don't climb!" Burke said.

Anna ignored him, "I don't know, I can't know, if that really is your family saying those things. But I do know this: That water is going to start rising again as soon as we're done, and if you stay here when it does, you're going to find out for yourself if it's them or not. I promise you, you will regret that decision more than you can *possibly* imagine. Now, we need to get to that light."

Lisa stared at her, eyes blank but not uncomprehending. Burke was the first to start up the stairs, walking past the two before he turned around and shouted.

"Fucking Run!"

There was a tremor that passed through the walls. Marshall's first thoughts were of a strong gust of wind or another wave, but then he looked down.

From the middle of the lighthouse came an enormous spray. The spring turned to a geyser, leaping almost as high he stood. Waves propagated through the thick ooze, and it began to shine in places with a pale white light. Bioluminescent, like some fish dragged from the depths.

Anna started again, grabbing Lisa's hand. The girl followed, stumbling on one step, nearly falling, but Anna kept her upright. Marshall watched Burke as he fired the SAW on single shot, each bullet splashing uselessly into the ooze. The demon's light was now stronger than the ghost fire, and in that white glow, it was obvious that the spreading sea was more blood than tar. The mass called out like a bird of prey, a falcon swooping down on a rabbit. Where it sloshed up in the wake of Burke's shots, the drops fell too slowly, like a hawk's feathers.

Up ahead, Lisa ran past Anna, adrenaline driving her on.

They were almost to the top when Burke did something that might have been an accident if he hadn't looked back when he did it. If he hadn't made sure that he hit where he was aiming.

The weapons sergeant kicked back, striking Lisa in the chest and just off center. The girl went down, and in the fall, she grasped at his leg. With her holding onto him, he couldn't keep his balance. Both came falling down the steps. Anna reached out to stop Lisa, but only managed to add herself to the cascade.

Anna careened down the first stair, but caught herself on the wall and fell seated, her eyes dazed. Lisa's fall started backward, but then turned horizontal, and she rolled again and again before she managed somehow to get a hold on the gridded metal. She lay face up, staring at the ceiling with one arm of her glasses broken.

Burke might have done the same; his M-249 had gone over the rail when he lost balance, leaving his hands free. Unfortunately for him, his first move was straight back, hitting the stairs like a rag doll. By the time he turned to the side and grabbed for the stairs, he had too much momentum. It was all Marshall could do to lift his foot and avoid getting hooked into the fall.

Burke ricocheted, broken, when he hit the curving wall. Now going straight back again, he could have been stopped on the next step. He'd have broken his spine. Cracked his skull. Gotten lucky.

Instead, he landed in the soft, boiling chaos.

Up to that point, the whole thing had been quiet. All loud clattering and muffled thuds. Lisa hadn't made any sound when she was struck. The hunter below had stopped its thundering, curious and hopeful. That was done now. When Burke hit the water, the riot started.

Marshall rushed forward. First, he helped Anna to pull Lisa back to her feet. He tried to ask if she was alright, but between Burke's high-pitched cries and the demon's mocking imitation, his words were lost. As soon as he saw that Lisa could still walk, he had her grab onto his arm. With him on one side and Anna on the other, the three continued on.

When he glanced over his shoulder from just under the metal grate that formed the light room's floor, what he saw seared itself into his mind.

He'd known what to expect, had seen it dozens of times, but the image was still more than enough to anchor him to the spot. It was a picture from Hieronymus Bosch's fevered mind. The thing had Burke, its smooth form turned to solid tendrils over his flesh. Moving all across and then into his skin. Steam rose up where the thin, wiry threads cut through the man's jumpsuit, and bare meat bubbled and smoked. Burke's face was frozen into a death mask, his last moments made silent. Still, his eyes rolled in their orbits and his muscles jerked, held in place by the tendrils' strength. His face was pulled tight against his skull, making him look gaunt and frail, like a corpse but very much alive.

Marshall reached to his belt to grab his sidearm, but Anna stretched out to his hand. She shook her head and shouted, "Fuck him. I have an idea."

With the 1911 still holstered, Marshall pulled Lisa up the last few steps to the roof.


	7. Storm

Turning and turning in the widening gyre, the now unfamiliar colors of the lighthouse beam painted sheets of blowing snow. Gusts well above hurricane force drove through the night. Their voice no longer a howl coming through the glass cage. Inside the glass cage, the storm sounded like a church organ played by a madman.

Marshall let go of Lisa and shouted, "Get to the ledge!"

Anna and Lisa ran through one of the shattered panes, Anna helping the girl step over the teeth of pointed glass. As the SEO crossed the threshold, she reached down to grab a curved dagger of jagged crystal.

When Marshall looked through the grid and into the tower, he saw that Burke was gone, dragged down beneath the surface. Without thinking, Marshall fired two rounds from his carbine through the hole that they'd just climbed out of.

The field sergeant stood bathed in purple light, then in shadow, then in a rich shade of green. White began to shine again from the inky black, coloring the world like it was in bright sunlight. It grew harsher until the stainless steel canopy looked like an over-exposed Polaroid. When the waters began to climb, Marshall backed away. He had just gotten out of the lightroom when the flow breached the top and rushed over the sides of the building in a slow, thick cascade.

Anna and Lisa drew back against the salt-coroded rail. The wind whipped Anna's copper hair across her face, and she brushed it aside. Marshall saw her expression then, completely inscrutable.

He crossed to where the two stood in a few bounding steps, and turned to watch the enormous Fresnel lens revolve in its metal cage. A wave struck the Precambrian cliff below, its spray flung over them from the sea behind.

"Whatever you're planning had better work," Marshall called over the raging sea, "We're all out of options."

Anna turned to him and said, "I've noticed. "

The SEO looked over to Lisa, grabbed her by the shoulders, and turned her face to face. With the glass shard in her left hand and her right on the girl's shoulder, she said, "Lisa, listen, because this is very important. You have just killed a man."

"I-I didn't..." she started, "I didn't mean to. He just-"

Anna shook her head and said, "The intent isn't important. It's what you did that matters, and the fact that you know that you did it. You *killed* Communications Sergeant Arnold Burke, NATO Special Executive Officers' Support Corps, Team Eight. You sacrificed that man for yourself. So now, say it. Say, 'I killed Arnold Burke'."

"I-I killed Arnold Burke."

There was a hollow rushing sound from inside of the lighthouse, and Lisa turned just in time to see the geyser surface with. With a deafening blast, it shot some twenty-odd feet into the air. For a few seconds, the canopy over the light held, and everything was showered in the black water. Its smell covered the world. Sickly sweet, the reek of decay. Then, the metal bars between the window panes began to groan and strain until they could no longer hold. Right after the first broke down, the top of the room flew off of the building like a cork from a bottle of champagne. It went up, high into the darkness, and in its flight it took the light with it. Both careened out over the sea, cartwheeling end over end. The beam still cut through the world until it hit the sea below and was lost forever.

"Good," Anna said, "Now. 'His life for my life'."

"His life...his life for my life."

"To it," Anna yelled, turning the girl toward the light room, "Talk to it, not me!"

Lisa looked into the black eruption, white blobs glowing inside of it like they were suspended in a lava lamp.

"His life for my life."

"'His eternal fate for my own'. Say it."

"His eternal fate for my own."

In front of them, the geyser slowed. It was only half its earlier height, but seemed impossibly wider. Something solid formed inside as they watched, a sphere of glistening black that the flow gushed around. The torrent caused it to widen until the ball filled the entirety of what had been the light room. Its bulk capped the rush, and as it did, the spring weakened. Ropes of blood and oil stretched out to the rails, and trunks of slush bled down from the thing's body to the metal grate. Soon, the tide closed off completely, and the thing stood before them, sick flashes of ball lightning dancing beneath its liquid hide.

Anna put her hand on Lisa's back, between her shoulder blades, and motioned her away from the railing. Anna continued, "Alright, you're doing great. Now, give me your hand."

The great thing roared, and ripples crossed its surface. Something else shimmered up. Bones. First just random bits of skeleton, charred and still smoldering, with what looked like strips of rotten flesh attached where the corpses had not been rendered completely bare. Inside the demon's bulk, they began to assemble. Fragments fell together like a jigsaw puzzle whose pieces were forced into place. The sections of decayed meat grew with a smell like pork barbecuing over a tire fire, linking bone to bone like sinew.

Lisa looked back as she extended her hand. Anna passed the shard of broken glass.from left to right and used her free hand to hold Lisa's.

Lisa asked, "What are you doing?"

Anna glanced up from the girl's hand. Without her glasses, it was obvious how badly Lisa had been hurt during her fall. Her forehead was starting to bruise and swell, and there was a long cut on her forehead. A trickle of blood ran from her nose, and...

A trickle of blood ran from her nose.

Anna dropped the glass knife and kicked it back past the railing, where it fell over the edge, tumbling through the dark to a silent landing on the snow below. "Nothing," she said, "That's one bit of good news, I guess."

With that, the spherical thing blared a new sound, an air raid siren warning of the blitz to come. It was almost like it refused to be ignored, as if that were even possible. Ahead of them, the figures on the surface of the sphere took on grotesque approximations of human form. Some with three arms and four legs, some with no limbs attached to headless trunks. There were at least twenty of them on its surface, and as it stood there still, the terrible thing rotated. A globe, spinning slowly while those parts that might have been its arms and legs stood rooted to the railing and the grate. The orb was more liquid, and as it flowed around the appendages it left slinking trails that fell through the floor.

The creature wanted someone to admire its handiwork since it knew now that it had an audience. From this close, even Anna was visible to it, another mass of terror next to the one that it sought.

The bodies on its surface bumped and shifted against each other like logs in a lumberjack's raft. The only one of them that Marshall could identify was Burke, and even then it was only just possible. The man was twisted beyond any easy recognition now. His eyes bulged out of his skull, and his one exposed arm was gone to black putrefaction. Still, there was that frantic look of life in his eyes. Marshall looked for another living corpse, Carmichael's, but it was nowhere to be seen.

To one side, Marshall heard Lisa scream as a new figure crept into her view, two bodies joined together in their last moment. She cried that one word, "No", repeated it over and over again in the screaming wind.

Anna turned Lisa to face her and the cold sea beyond, and Lisa stopped chanting. "Lisa," Anna said, "I need you stay as calm as possible. You're *really* not going to like this next part, but it's extremely important that you not panic, alright?"

Voices began crying out from the dripping ball of rot and pitch. First only a few, but they were soon joined by others as rupturing bubbles roiled the thing's surface. Lisa nodded. None of the voices were distinct, and the thing's own animal howl was building under them, rising to a crescendo.

Anna turned Lisa back to face the demon. "Apologies in advance," she said.

And with that, Anna shoved Lisa forward. The girl stumbled off balance first, then turned around and stared back with a hollow expression. Confusion, horror, and betrayal played across her face.

The noise cut off instantly, and there was a pause. It didn't last. After maybe two seconds of perfect quiet, the thing howled again in a register high enough to burst glass. A slithering mass emerged from it, snapping out like a nest of vipers. The thing wrapped itself around Lisa.

Marshall raised his gun, trained its sights on the girl, and flipped its switch to single fire with numb and shaking fingers, but when he tried to pull the trigger, he found it impossible. Anna had her hand raised, gesturing for him to stop. He watched, helpless, as the thing reeled Lisa in, and its screech intensified as she broke through the surface tension. Another voice added to the choir of Hell.

Anna's hold relaxed when the thing had taken her fully inside of itself, but still, Marshall couldn't move his gun. He turned to the SEO.

"What the *fuck* did you just do?"

Around them, the winds seemed to die down. Still intense, but weaker now. Anna took two steps toward the demon, then looked to Marshall.

"I think it's working," she said, "Watch."

As Marshall stared in horror, some of the bodies began to sink below the surface. More liquid dripped from the tar ball, thrown by its rotation. The water splashed across the deck, and the leviathan began to retract some of its tendrils from the rail.

Marshall glared at Anna, "You fed her to it? After it was your fucking idea to come in the first place, to fly all the way out here in the middle of the night without enough time to do a proper extraction...after all that, you still pull the same shit that dumbass tried?! Fuck you, bitch!"

A sound like a fog horn shattered the night. Marshall took a step back, forgetting where he was. He bumped up against the railing, where it shook and vibrated. Not just with his impact. The sphere was oscillating violently, quakes carried down along those ropes of watery flesh that still held it to the tower.

Concussions spread out across its surface. First small ripples, then large waves. The thing began to lose all sense of cohesion, sloshing wildly back and forth like its surface was unbound by gravity. Tiny bubbles drifted off, adding to the impression of weightlessness as they floated up instead of sinking. Some of them caught the patches of the white light that illuminated the leviathan, and soon it was surrounded in a cloud of shining crystal snow that fell up toward the sky. The creature's spin dispersed the mist all over the tower and the dark beyond.

Marshall dodged a rotting lower leg that the thing threw in its crazed spiral. Its revolutions grew faster and faster, until it was shaped like a lumpy football, then something about its color shifted. Instead of pitch dark, its surface turned into a mirror made of mercury. It reflected back everything that the lights illuminated, mirroring Anna and Marshall on its waves. The demon's call began to wobble and waver, moving up and down by octaves in pitch. Now shrill, now booming, now inaudible but felt deep down in the marrow.

Anna held onto the railing. "You should probably turn away," she said, yelling.

Marshall didn't bother to ask why. He faced out to the sea, where the snow looked like an impenetrable wall, illuminated far into the distance. His shadow on the snow formed a spectre, enormous and elongated, a trick of the lighting and perspective. When the sea spray kicked up, it formed a glory, a halo of rainbow light.

Anna watched alone as the thing split into a triple helix and stretched up into the sky. Those lights that had been individual globules now filled its entire bulk, shining brighter and brighter, glowing around their fringes with milky blue. An eternity seemed to condense into a few seconds, the Typhon so much brighter than the sun that she had to shield her eyes from the glare. Marshall shut his against the reflection, but behind his eyelids, everything was a red chaos that burned itself into his retinas. In Anna's view, the thing seemed to merge into a single column, rising high into the heavens.

Then, faster than it had started, it ended.

The column dimmed, forming back into the three helices, winding tight around each other. They collapsed down into the lighthouse with a splash and a boom. A weak shockwave cracked the white plaster down the tower's exterior, splitting it from top to bottom in wide fault lines.

When Marshall opened his eyes, the combined afterimage and darkness blinded him. There was still a dull glow where liquid coated the grating. As his vision came back and he gathered his bearings, Marshall saw Anna run over to something on the floor of what had been the light room. She shook the small form that lay on its side there, until it finally raised itself up on its elbow.

"Wh-what?" Lisa asked, then she started coughing, handing up the glowing liquid. Something in it made her gag, and she choked, nearly vomiting. "What just happened?" She asked

Her body was coated in what was left of the horror that had swallowed her, dripping its dimming light down through the floor. With Anna's help, she managed to sit up. As the lithr continued to die down, Anna clenched her hand into a fist and opened it. A green ball of light lifted into the air, bright as a road flare.

"I'll explain once we get down from here."

The wind slacked for a moment, then began to blow more violently than before. Lisa reached up with her closed left hand, raising it above the grate. When she opened it, Marshall saw something inside that looked like a pearl. Sometimes white, sometimes incandescent, illuminated from within with pale fire.

"Is that-" Lisa started, then her voice was cut off by another round of racking coughs.

Anna nodded. "The Typhon," she said, "Pretty sure that's yours now. So, uh, put it somewhere safe. We need to get off this tower."

"Why?" Lisa asked. She shook as she slipped it into the pocket of her bulging green coat.

Somewhere in the distance, lightning streaked across the sky. As Marshall looked out across the ocean, he saw two enormous shapes with their upper bodies in the clouds. The closer one dripped with tentacles, like bunches of seaweed.

"Jesus Christ," Marshall said, "Don't tell me there are more of them."

Anna replied, "Probably the parents. I wouldn't worry, though. They're not going to waste their time on a baby that can't hunt on its own."

"Where are they going, then?" Lisa asked.

Anna replied, "Probably back out to sea, but we need to get to the basement anyway. I don't know how much more this building can take."

Marshall and Anna helped the girl to stand. She struggled to her feet, wavering as they began the climb back down, into the lighthouse, and into a world that felt somehow less sane than it had in the chaos minutes before.


	8. Fires at Midnight

Her lips were red, her looks were free,  
Her locks were yellow as gold:  
Her skin was as white as leprosy,  
The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,  
Who thicks man's blood with cold.

\- **Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner**

Lisa's first few days in Bangore were a blur. In the underground hospital ward where she found herself after the helicopter ride back, there was little to mark the passage of time. Only the digital clock face on the wall of her room, and the dimming and brightening of the fluorescent lights as night followed day and day followed night. There were nurses in dark green scrubs and doctors who were olive drab under their white coats. Sometimes, men and women came to visit her in dark uniforms with badges glistening over the breast pocket. They all asked the same questions, again and again until she got sick of answering and told them to leave her alone. They kept asking just the same, and soon she was numb to it. Numb to the world in its entirety.

Her parents were gone. Everything she had known; that was gone, too.

In their place was something like a long, black fish with stubby legs that scrambled across the linoleum. It was warm to the touch like a rock left in the sun, and when the ward was dark and still, some of its scales shone with a milky glow. Stars that sometimes formed together into a galactic river. Some of the staff had thought to bring in an aquarium, because that seemed right, but it spent little of its time in there. Instead, it seemed to want to be by her side, and she tolerated the thing.

She called it Campanella, because the pattern it had in the dark reminded her of nights watching the Milky Way. It seemed to approve, but then, it seemed to approve of everything she said and did. The fish-thing wasn't like Anna's cat. It would try to speak sometimes, but it only had a few words, so conversations weren't a possibility. It was still young. The thing seemed to know when she was upset, though, and would either crawl under the bed to disappear in shadow, or climb up beside of her. Its choice depended on whether it was the immediate cause of her distress. Most of the time, she didn't mind its being there. When she held it, the ache in her fractured ankle and bruised lungs dulled by more than codeine and Tylenol could manage. Even the memory of her parents was gone for the moment, swallowed up in the blackness of its beady eyes.

Sacrifice, attachment, and blood. Those were the things required to seal a Familiar to its master. Anna hadn't known if it would work, she'd never actually done it herself, and she told Lisa as much on one of the rare occasions when she came to visit. Maxwell had come to her, she said, already sealed to a man who had died years ago. He had asked the aurgelmir to end his life and send him to Hell, and it had obliged. In her thick accent, Anna told Lisa that the only other option would have been tossing her off the lighthouse. Lisa wasn't sure that she was joking, but she did humor her with a weak laugh.

Anna's cat seemed to be afraid of the Typhon even now. When the Familiar came too close, the fish would give a roar like an alligator from its toothy maw, and the cat would back away. Lisa suspected that was why she didn't visit more often. Again, she didn't mind. Anna had taken every choice away from her. Had stolen any chance she had to be with the people she loved.

After she was moved from the underground ward and into a normal hospital, Campanella spent most of the day hidden. It only came out in the dark, when Lisa was alone with the sound of beeping monitors and carts rolling in the hallway. She missed it sometimes, but then, it was never really far. On one of Marshall's more frequent visits, he had given her a chain of sterling silver so that she could wear the pearl around her neck during the days, when daylight streamed in between the blinds.

Two days before she was to be discharged, a woman came to visit Lisa. She introduced herself as Junko, and with her was a girl named Amy who took more after Carmichael than her mother. There had been the usual small talk, pointless questions about how she was doing. Good, of course, there could be no other answer. Then, she had made Lisa an offer that surprised her. She'd given her time to think over it, but Lisa made up her mind almost immediately.

It was only after the fact that Lisa realized that this was one of many false choices that she would be faced with. How many places were there for someone like her to go? How many paths were really left open?

She left the hospital on an unseasonably warm morning in late February, climbing into the passenger seat of Junko's Cayenne. There was still paperwork to be filled out, but it all seemed a technicality. Lisa rolled the pearl that was Campanella between her fingers, focused on it for most of the ride between Bangore and Charlotte. There, they stayed overnight with the family in an overpriced Quality Inn. They ate at a restaurant called Cracker Barrel just off the interstate. It was Lisa's first decent meal since the storm, but she found that it still tasted dull, as bland as the food in the hospital. One of many things that no longer felt quite right. For the evening, they drove around the Queen City, where lights were just coming on in the towers downtown. A beautiful spectacle that rang hollow. That night, Amy and her mother slept in one bed, while Lisa and Campanella took the other. She dreamed of her mother and father. Of fireworks at twilight, bursting like flowers of red, green, and blue fire over the gentle breakers of Penobscot Bay n the late summer.

Around noon the next day, the luxury SUV pulled into a two car garage, attached to a Mediterranean-style McMansion a block from the beach in Jupiter. The day was almost hot, and Lisa could feel the midday Florida sun on her face, but it did nothing to warm her skin. 

Seagulls danced in the sky beneath wispy cirrus, and a breeze blew in from the open Atlantic, bringing with it the smell of salt spray and the sound of distant breakers.


End file.
